Beautiful Women Don't Just Fall Into a Guy's Lap
by cocacolagirl97
Summary: AU in which Clarke accidently drinks spiked punch at a New Year's Eve party and ends up the responsibility of a handsome, reserved stranger named Bellamy.


Bellamy had no interest in going to a New Year's Eve party. Honestly he'd rather work a double shift, but his boss Kane wouldn't be letting him get away with that two years in a row.

To him, parties equalled a mass of sweaty bodies getting far too much in his personal space while allowing fruity drinks to turn them into idiots. He didn't like dancing, or loud music, or small talk, or strangers, all of which he tried to explain to Monty and Echo but the two were hell-bent on turning around his social recluse lifestyle.

All he wanted to do was take a relaxing, warm shower and fall into a comfortable sleep, but instead he was stuck sitting in a sticky bar stool at the neighborhood pub with a bunch of people faking extreme joy to forget about all their real-world problems.

"Seriously dude you need some liquid courage," Echo was saying, trying to talk him into vodka shots for the third time that hour.

"My beer is more than fine," he rolled his eyes. "I'd prefer to be in control of my actions."

Monty clapped a hand down on his shoulder, returning to the seat on his left.

"If that's the case then stay far, far away from that bowl of punch in the corner," he laughed. "I'm pretty sure John Murphy just spiked it with something wicked."

Bellamy groaned. "It's like we're back in highschool."

Echo grinned at the thought and was up in a flash.

"John always did know how to have a good time!" She winked at her two friends and was across the room pulling the brunette onto the dance floor just as "I Can't Stop the Feeling" started blasting.

"Her taste in guys has always been questionable," Bellamy grinned lovingly.

"At least she's put herself out there enough to have a taste," Monty teased back and then started laughing far too hard at the mild offense written across Bellamy's face.

"Hey man, come on," he protested. "I'll put myself out there when I meet the right girl."

"I dare you talk to one girl tonight," Monty narrowed his eyes at the challenge.

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. He was proudly never one to back down from a dare, and yes, it had gotten him in more than one tight situation.

So he accepted, they shook hands, and Monty moved across the room to pursue a dirty-blonde he'd had his eye on.

Bellamy was left staring at his half-drank beer and cursing Kane for taking away his only good excuse not to be here. It was only 10 PM and the night was already veering dangerously close to his idea of a nightmare.

It was equal parts lucky and unlucky that he spun around in the stool just in time for a girl, quite hilariously in mid trip, to literally land in his lap.

Her blonde hair splayed across his hands as he attempted to catch her but when she landed, largely ragdoll style, she remained still.

"Um… ma'am?" he shook her shoulders slightly.

She groaned in response and kind of shimmied around so she was still flopped over him but now facing upward. She was wearing a lazy smile and her eyes were wide and blinking repeatedly as though she was trying to clear her mind.

"Hey there," she slurred, throwing her hand up in his face for what he could only assume was an attempted handshake. "I'm Clarke."

"I'm Bellamy," he said, twisting around to awkwardly shake her outstretched hand so that she would lower it. "And you are like completely off the deep end drunk."

"Um noooo," she frowned. "I'm Clarke, I just told you."

He looked down at her, at a complete loss at what to do in the situation, and she stared back up intensely.

"Ha!" She suddenly shouted and he actually jumped. "You blinked!"

He broke eye contact then, helplessly looking around only to find his friends conveniently too distracted to provide any aid. As though there was ever a better example of why he doesn't like parties.

"Alright then," he sighed looking back down. "Let's get you up, shall we?"

What followed consisted of Clarke remaining entirely spineless as he was forced to scoop her up in an interesting new version of bridal-style to deposit her on the stool next to him.

"You're very strong," she concluded, instantly grabbing on to his nearest bicep with both hands. "Your muscles are very… strong."

"Uh thank you," he muttered glancing down at his arm.

"You didn't say I'm very strong," she complained, still holding on. "You're supposed to compliment people back when they compliment you."

"Well considering you couldn't even lift yourself into a sitting position it didn't seem fitting," he teased, but she huffed so he quickly continued. "You're amazing at the no-blinking game though."

She grinned lopsidedly, clearly pleased.

"So what's a handsome bachelor like you doing sitting alone at the bar?" She had seemingly forgotten about where her hands were placed and was in no hurry to move them.

"My friends are out on the dance floor," he shrugged.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" She asked naturally.

"No," he replied.

"Ohmigosh!" Her eyes grew even wider as she squealed. "Are you trying to pick me up right now?"

"What? No!" He sputtered. "You're the one calling people handsome and assaulting their biceps!"

"Well geez, you could have just asked me to move my hands," she rolled her eyes aggressively and released him.

He stared at her for a moment, and as she started sliding slowly down the seat, realized that letting her hold herself up might not have been the worst thing. As he was pulling her back up, she placed her hands to her head.

"Oh I feel so awful," she groaned again.

"Yeah consuming that much alcohol will do that to a person," he nodded.

"I didn't drink any alcohol," she stated and he laughed right in her face as she glared back at him.

"I didn't!" She insisted. "I'm the designated driver tonight!"

Her eyes were serious and sincere, causing Bellamy to shoot up at the thought that someone might have drugged her, but as he scanned the room, his eyes landed on Echo and John.

He grabbed Clarke quickly by the shoulders and shook slightly to get her attention.

"Clarke, I need you to think real hard," he insisted. "Have you had anything at all to drink tonight?"

"I had some punch," she nodded.

"How much punch Clarke?" He pushed.

"Like three cups, maybe four, I was thirsty," she slurred. He sighed and sat back down.

"Good news Clarke," he smiled. "You haven't been drugged, but you have had an inhuman amount of the world's most highly spiked punch so I'm afraid you won't be driving anywhere tonight."

"I've been drugged?!" she squealed.

"No, no, try to keep up, you had spiked punch," he repeated.

"So," he could practically see the gears in her mind turning. "I've been poisoned?"

"Sure Clarke," he chuckled. "You've been poisoned by alcohol, as we all have."

"Let's dance," she blurted out, apparently over the thought.

"Uh no," he shook his head quickly. "I need to find whoever you're here with."

"I came with Ontari," Clarke offered. "She's basically the devil."

"Then why are you spending New Year's Eve with her?" He chuckled.

"She's dating my best friend and he had to go out of town for work and wanted me to keep her company and get to know her better," she explained. "But I already know her plenty and she's the devil."

"Got it," he nodded. "Mind pointing her out to me?"

After taking a good sixty seconds to succeed in the action, he propped her up, literally placing her hands into a hold on the counter so she wouldn't end up on the floor as he stepped away.

"Hey, Ontari?" He questioned as he approached, and she spun around looking far too friendly once she saw him.

"That's me," she placed a hand on his arm. "And who might you be?"

"Uh your friend Clarke over there had a bit too much of the spiked punch and I think she might need to head home," he shrugged off her question and her hand.

"Ooo well unfortunately I'm actually headed out myself," she said.

"Great so take her with you," he stated confused.

"No like I'm headed out with Wells over there," Ontari smirked.

"Wait," he paused. "Aren't you dating Clarke's friend?"

"Oh please," she rolled her eyes. "New Year's Eve is the time to live it up and what Finn doesn't know won't hurt him. It's not like good ol' Clarke is going to remember a minute of this."

"Okay nevermind," Bellamy huffed. "Whatever is happening in your relationship is none of my business, but you need to do something with Clarke."

"You'll keep an eye on her won't you?" Ontari was already turning away. "Be a dear and make sure she doesn't choke on her own vomit. I think you need to make sure she sleeps sideways or something."

"What the hell lady!" Bellamy shouted after her, but she was already out of sight.

After wading through the crowd, he plopped back down next to the swaying blonde.

"So Ontari just bailed," he muttered.

"Great so there are no more excuses not to dance!" she grinned.

"How about that I have two left feet and you can't stand on yours," he countered.

"I can so," she insisted, sliding onto her feet before he could intervene.

When she grabbed his hands, he allowed her to keep her hold and to pull him forward because he was fairly sure it was the only thing keeping her upright.

"Seriously Clarke," he protested to no avail. "Us dancing right now would be the opposite of a pretty sight."

She paused and reached for his neck, using it to pull her mouth up to his ear.

"Seriously Bellamy," she whispered. "Let me give you a piece of life advice. Stop caring so much what other people think."

She was grinning when she pulled back.

"I bet I'm a better dancer than you," she tried to wink but he just acted like he didn't notice the hilarious failure.

"I bet you are too," he agreed as she pulled him deeper into the dancefloor.

"Well that's no fun," she pouted. "Fight for yourself!"

"I tried!" He protested. "But somehow I still ended up standing here anyway."

"Hey Na" came on then, and Clarke's eye's lit up as she grabbed onto his shoulders and lost herself to the rhythm.

He definitely wouldn't say that it was graceful or that it even really matched the beat all that well, but she certainly looked like she was having a blast.

So when she grabbed his hand, lifted it high in the air, and shouted "Spin me!" over the noise of the music, he complied.  
And then "All Star" by Smash Mouth was coming on and she made a serious argument that everyone in the world loved that song so he couldn't not dance to it, plus he looked like an idiot just standing on the dancefloor, and surprising even himself, he gave in.

Dancing was actually kind of fun when you didn't give a crap about the people around you. He took a second to marvel at how the petite blonde was able to remain on her feet, but then he took her cue and just lost himself in the moment.

They went through "Backstreet's Back", "Party in the U.S.A", and countless others before an incredibly amused John Murphy appeared in his vision.

Bellamy caught sight of Echo ordering drinks at the bar as John clapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly and looked at Clarke curiously.

"Hi, I'm John but my friends call my Murphy," he grinned charmingly.

Clarke looked him up and down before stating, "You look like a manslut."

Bellamy's jaw dropped straight open, to which Clarke calmly reached over and shut it before continuing.

"Bellamy's never mentioned you before."

"Oh?" Murphy was grinning wildly at the unexpected conversation. "I didn't realize you two knew each other that well."

"Bellamy and I go way back," she assured. "We met over an hour ago at this point."

"Oh you're right, that's some real quality time as far as Bellamy's concerned," Murphy laughed, throwing a light-hearted punch to the shoulder his way.

"We've gone through some real stuff together," she nodded, clearly believing they were engaged in serious conversation. "I was almost drugged but then it turned out I was just poisoned, Bellamy had a run-in with the devil, and then backstreet came back."

Murphy's eyes widened and he looked even more delighted, so Bellamy stepped in.

"Well if you'll excuse us," he gestured for the other man to get lost, but then Clarke was tugging urgently on his shirt.

"Um Bellamy, I think I'm gonna be sick," she looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yup I'm definitely going to vomit."

Without another word he was half dragging her across the room, feeling rather like a football player shoving people out of the way to get his prized possession to the end zone. As they entered the hallway to the restrooms, she started gagging and threw her hand over her mouth, so he increased speed even more. He threw open the bathroom door, and then the door of the first stall, just in time.

He was holding her hair back as she leaned over the toilet before he even realized that he was in the lady's room for the first time since he was six.

The last thing he needed was some idiot from high school seeing him and spreading some ridiculous rumor. But Clarke was still retching and he still had her hair, so he shut the stall door behind them and leaned up against the wall.

"I gotta say, I did not see the night ending up this way," he sighed, looking down at her sympathetically.

"Me either," she whimpered slightly. "I think I'm dying."

"You're going to be alright Clarke," he murmured reassuringly, allowing his eyes to drift shut as he listening to the music drifting through the door.

When her stomach finally settled, she simply sat back on the floor next to where he was standing, taking his hand from her hair and giving it a tug so that he slid down the wall to rest next to her.

The floor was sticky and the wall was hard, but she kept ahold of his hand as she rested her head on his shoulder, and he couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face.

"Tell me something you've never told anyone else," she whispered sleepily.

He paused so she continued. "Fine I'll go first, as a sign of good faith."

"I've always wondered what it would be like to die," she gripped his hand a little tighter. "Not in a suicide kind of way, but more a curiosity of what overwhelming peace would feel like."

"I've always felt responsible for my mother's death."

He had no idea why he said it. He certainly didn't plan to. He tried to tell himself it was just because she would never remember a word, but something told him he'd been waiting all his life for someone to ask for his pain.

If Clarke was disturbed by his admission, she gave no physical sign.

"How'd she die?" she asked calmly instead.

"Childbirth with my little sister," he didn't really see any point in backtracking now.

She was quiet and he wondered if she had drifted off, but when she spoke, her voice was soft and clear.

"Little boy Bellamy should have protected her, should have helped out more with the pregnancy, should have noticed the signs that something was going wrong," she wasn't asking, no, she was stating.

He sucked in a shaky breath and she snuggled in closer to his side.

"Yeah, that's exactly it," he said lowly. "She was a single mom. I was all she had."

"She was all you had," Clarke rephrased, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear that he hadn't even known was there. "But not anymore. Now you have your sister and your friends and a poisoned girl with remarkably good dance moves."

"Life never turns out quite how we expect it too," he acknowledged.

"You're a good man Bellamy," she murmured. "Your mom would be proud."

The tears came freely then. He didn't even try to resist as silent sobs racked his body and Clarke pulled his head into the nape of her neck, holding on tightly.

And as he sobbed on the floor of a women's restroom in the back of a pub, all he could think was how hilariously beautiful it was that a stranger was able to make him face the feelings he hadn't even known he'd been running from for so long.

Clarke held on and he cried and time passed.

"You look even hotter now," she assured him when she finally returned to resting at his side, confirming that plenty of the punch was still in her system.

But then a squeaking alerted them to the door opening and they faced each other with wide eyes.

"Ohmigosh hurry," Clarke hissed, scurrying to her feet.

She was clamoring onto the toilet before Bellamy could step in, clearly intending for the two to stand on it and hide, but instead her foot slipped before she found her balance. She made impact into his chest before he was fully stood up, his own foot slipped on a wet patch of tile, and they both went down in an awkward tangle of limbs.

Bellamy was the first to burst out laughing but Clarke followed mere moments later.

"Oh gross," a woman's annoyed, yet familiar, voice came from outside of the stall. "Just get a room, like what are you even doing?"

"We both had a very real need to release various bodily fluids," Clarke shot back. "Now bugger off kindly."

"Oh my god!" The woman now sounded horrified and Bellamy's laugh deepened.

There was the sound of shuffling feet outside the stall, and a pause, and then the woman called out a confused, "Bellamy?"

The stall door swung open and there was Echo looking down at them.

"Oh. my. God." she repeated. "Ohmygod."

"Echo meet Clarke, Clarke Echo," he tried to shrug but only bumped Clarke in the nose so she swatted the back of his head.

"Bellamy are you okay?" Echo looked like her eyes were about to pop out of her head. "Why are your eyes red?"

"Drugs," Clarke answered instantly. "Lots of drugs. Crack Cocaine to be specific. What's it to you?"

Bellamy laughed even harder before realizing that Echo was not responding in kind and quickly swallowing it.

"It's a long story Echo," he smiled reassuringly up at her. "It started when Monty dared me to talk to a girl tonight so we can basically blame this on him."

Echo was beginning to look amused but also a bit like she was having an out of body experience.

"Okay then," she shook herself out of it. "Well it's about five minutes to midnight."

"New Year's!" Clarke squealed, attempting to get up but only making them more tangled together.

Echo just looked on as he was finally able to untangle them, and then Clarke had his hand and quite literally dragging him back into the bar. John, Monty and the dirty-blonde were waiting outside the door but he was pulled right past them.

They came to a stop next to the bar where Clarke grabbed a spare pair of 2018 glasses for herself before depositing a party hat on his head.

"Got any New Year's Resolutions?" she called over the music.

"Maybe live life more?" he grinned sheepishly.

"That's a dang good one!" she encouraged. "Mind if I share it with you?"

"I feel like you've already got it down, but sure," he laughed.

The crowd started counting down and Clarke joined in gleefully, although she mixed a few of the numbers around, causing Bellamy to do the same.

When they got to one, she stood up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. John literally swept Echo off her feet to kiss her deeply, and Monty and his new friend did some kind of adorable high-five.

"I'm really glad I met you," Clarke was saying. "But I'd be even more glad if you were an aspirin."

"Sorry to disappoint," he smirked. "I suppose we should probably get you home."

"It's not the worst idea in the world," she was yawning again.

So he said his goodbyes to Monty and Echo, the later whom wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and helped Clarke out the door.

The night was dark and filled with the sound of fireworks as they made their way into the parking lot.

"I think my car is over there, or maybe over there, possibly over there, well I know it's here at least," Clarke mumbled as she struggled to pull out her keys which Bellamy immediately snatched.

"Why don't you let me give you a ride home," he insisted. "It's the least I could do after you showed me such a good time tonight."

Clarke scrunched her eyes together to try to get a better look at him in the thin light that the one street lamp cast.

"Are you going to murder me and leave my body in a ditch?" She asked calmly.

"Come on, give me more credit," he scoffed. "I'd at least bury it so that it couldn't be found."

"Hmm that's logical," she nodded. "Okay what's your ride then?"

He guided her to his truck, helped her get into the passenger seat, and even ensured that she was buckled in properly.

"Okay where too?" He asked, turning on the engine.

"My apartment," she replied.

"So where is your apartment?" he chuckled.

"I have no idea," she shrugged as if this wasn't a major issue.

"Okay no big deal," he was thinking on his feet now. "Let's text someone in your phone and get your address from them."

"No can do," she was fiddling with the buttons on his dash distractedly. "Finn and I just moved here so he's basically the only person I really know."

"Okay so let's text Finn," he suggested, and that got her attention.

"No no no nononononoooooo," she drew out probably to emphasize her point. "If we tell Finn that I've been poisoned, he'll want to know where Ontari is, and he is not about to find out this way."

"I have to hand it to you," he shook his head. "That was awfully well thought out for being so out of it right now."

"Nobody messes with my friends," she reached over and ruffled his hair for literally no reason whatsoever. "I knew it was a good idea to spit in her drink."

He raised an eyebrow and then stared out the window as the engine idled.

"What are we supposed to do now?" he asked mainly to himself.

"I think I'll fit in very well with the homeless population," Clarke determined. "First you need to help me steal a grocery cart because that is a required accessory."

"I don't think that'll be necessary," he patted her knee.

"No seriously I'm completely prepared," she insisted. "First we go into the store and buy an apple to keep appearances, then we load the apple into your truck to also keep up appearances, then I start screaming that I'm being assaulted because distraction, then you use your strong muscles to throw the cart into the truck and speed away so fast, then I say oh wait that's my brother so I'm not being assaulted, then I meet you around the corner and we're good to go."

"I see literally no outcome from this plan where I don't end up in jail," he chuckled.

"Okay so step two of the plan, the great jailbreak," she started but he quickly cut her off.

"Clarke, Clarke, you are not going to sleep on the streets," he assured.

"Okay so take me back to your place," she shrugged nonchalantly.

"I, um, I don't know if that's really appropriate," he swallowed.

"Oh my gosh," she huffed. "I know you're like the hottest guy I've danced with since I moved here, but I'm not going to like try to jump your bones or anything, probably."

"How reassuring," he rolled his eyes, but she had already moved on and suddenly country music was blasting from his speakers.

"My place it is," said under his breath, and then they were pulling out onto the road.

The ride was basically a rollercoaster of drunkenness with Clarke singing at the top of her lungs, leaning so far out the window at one point that he had to grab the waist of her jeans to pull her back in, and then passing out asleep out of nowhere.

When they parked in front of his apartment, her eyes were tucked tightly shut and she was breathing softly.

He paused and stared at her for a second, marveling at how exactly he had come to be in this moment. It seemed best to let her sleep, so he gently scooped her up bridal-style and carried her up the steps, through three sets of doors, and into his bedroom. She would take the bed and he would take the couch.

She made a little noise and rolled over when he laid her down, but her eyes remained closed. He pulled off her shoes and spread a blanket over the top of her before shutting off the light.

"Goodnight Clarke," he whispered, and she sleepily grabbed the tail of his shirt.

Her words were muffled by his pillow but he caught "dark" and "strange place" and then "stay with me."

He froze for a moment but then sighed, grabbed another pillow from across the bed, and laid down on the floor. When her hand fell over the edge of the bed and her fingertips came to rest on his shoulder, he knew full well she was making sure he was there.

"Good morning Bellamy," she mumbled back.

And what a morning it would be.


End file.
